


blue dawn

by untouchableocean



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Rough Sex, This is not Happy, i am why we cannot have nice things, implied internalised homophobia i suppose, literal shameless porn, oh my god i am. so sorry, this is not sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 12:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untouchableocean/pseuds/untouchableocean
Summary: “It’s not gonna suck itself.”





	blue dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [singlemalter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlemalter/gifts).

> i would like to apologise on behalf of everyone who ever reads this. my horniness truly knows no bounds

Charles’ eyes are closed as he kneels on the floor, his knees itching from the hotel carpet. He breathes silently and squeezes his eyes shut so hard he can see stars flicker and dance on his eyelids. He purses his lips to spread the bright red lipstick and resists the urge to stroke his cheeks and scratch at the freshly shaved skin; he’d done it in a hurry when Max had texted him.

He bites his lip and keeps his hands bunched up on his thighs, resting just beneath the hem of the skirt Max had given him. The cheap cotton is fraying and Charles hopes it doesn’t fall to bits because he really likes this one, it’s soft and loose and almost ignorable. The bra, however, is less so, the lace digging into his chest and itching at his skin like nothing else he’s ever worn.

Max’s footsteps finally appear and Charles’ breathing hitches, his eyes staying shut. He digs his nails into his thighs and tries to clear his mind. He’s realised it’s better not to think too much when they’re doing this. Max’s hand grabs his chin and he gasps, finally opening his eyes as Max tilts his head up to face him.

The room is dark and Max is mostly in shadow, the dim light of the bedside lamp not doing much in the way of lighting him up. Charles can see his face though, his eyes overcast with lust and his mouth twisted into a frown. Charles blinks up at him, hoping his expression betrays nothing but willingness to take whatever Max is going to give.

Max looks down a little more, just avoiding Charles’ eyes as he pulls his jeans open and tugs out his half-hard cock. Charles’ heart beats faster in his chest and he pauses, suddenly hesitant. He doesn’t know why he holds back but it doesn’t matter because Max grips his hair and pushes him towards his crotch until his dick is rubbing against Charles’ cheeks, smearing shiny trails across his face.

“It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Charles gulps and opens his mouth, letting Max guide his head back and relaxing his jaw to let Max push into him. He closes his eyes when Max hits the back of his throat but Max lightly taps his jaw, telling him to open them and look at him. He can’t keep them open properly as Max starts to thrust, so he lets his eyelids droop so they’re half open, hazy, not really able to focus on Max, looking through him rather than at him.

Max pulls harder at Charles’ hair and Charles knows he wishes it was longer. He can’t really do anything about that. Max asked him to grow it out but he really doesn’t want to. They’d tried a wig but it had always ended up coming off as soon as they really got going, and besides, Charles’ real hair poked through anyway. Charles had said they should keep trying but Max got fed up of it falling off, said there was no point.

Charles wished the wig had worked, because when he had the wig on, he could pretend he was someone else. Without the wig, he’s himself, stripped bare, wearing hastily applied lipstick and a bra and panties and gagging on Max’s cock; he supposes that’s part of why they do it.

Max pushes his thumb into Charles’ mouth then, stretching his lips and smudging the lipstick around the corner of his mouth. It hurts, being stretched this far, and he feels tears streaming down his cheeks as he looks pleadingly at Max, although he’s not sure what he’s pleading for. Max is mumbling something indistinct and Charles hums around Max’s dick, not knowing nor caring what he just said.

Max pulls out and holds Charles’ head firmly in place as he jerks himself off, hard and fast and just inches away from Charles’ face. Charles kind of hates how much he wants this, how much he can feel his own cock straining against the ill-fitting underwear he’s got on under the skirt. He opens his mouth and Max comes with a grunt, and Charles closes his eyes as the cum splatters over his face and pools in his waiting mouth.

He resists the urge to lick his lips, waiting until Max has finished before opening his eyes again. The cum is heavy on his tongue and he makes sure Max is looking as he swallows it in one go. Max breathes heavily through his nose before yanking at Charles’ hair and pulling him forwards, barely giving Charles time to react as he’s dragged across the floor towards an armchair suspiciously placed right next to the mirrored wardrobe.

“Fuck, look at yourself.”

Max sits back and twists Charles’ head so he’s staring at his own reflection, and an unnameable sickness fills his body. There’s lipstick smeared obscenely around his mouth and Max’s cum is slowly drying, mixed with tear trails on his flushed cheeks.

Even worse than seeing his face is seeing his body, and he looks like a caricature of himself. The bra Max hooked around his back, the skirt Max had tugged onto his hips over the black cotton panties, it’s all Max, he does this all for Max, and he lets out a pitiful whimper as he gives up the last of his resolve and sags against Max’s legs in defeat.

Max scrapes the excess cum off of Charles’ face with his free hand and holds it in front of Charles’ mouth expectantly. When he doesn’t move, he pushes his head forwards, nudging his mouth closer, and Charles gets the hint, tentatively lapping Max’s hand clean, sucking on his fingers to get every last drop. He can still see himself in the reflection and he lets his eyes glaze over, unfocused, and he can almost, almost, _almost_ pretend it’s not his reflection.

Max lets go of him and he falls down, not even bothering to catch himself on his arms. Max kicks him a little harder than Charles hopes he meant to before standing over him, Charles avoiding his gaze by burying his face in the crook of his arm.

“We’re not done, bitch. I just need a drink.”

Charles nods, gathering his breath as Max shuts the bathroom door behind him. He stays curled up on the ground, closes his eyes, and focuses on not falling asleep, painfully aware of his arousal throbbing between his legs. He knows he’d never get away with coming without Max noticing, but maybe he could get at least a little bit of friction.

He bucks his hips once, twice, thrice, groaning as quietly as he can muster as he rubs his still covered erection on the carpet. He whines as he grinds himself against the floor, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the noises so Max won’t catch him like this. He keeps going and going and to his disgust he realises he can’t _stop,_ and he resigns himself to his fate and shame blooms in his gut as he get closer and closer until-

“Fucking hell, you really are pathetic.”

He spins around, breaths catching in his throat in his panic. Max is standing there, totally naked now, and he has no idea how long he’s been there but he’s guessing it’s long enough to see his little display because he’s halfway hard again. He’s practically hyperventilating as Max walks towards him and pins his arms either side of him, and his hysterical near orgasmic state makes him dizzy, like he’s just been dropped from a plane.

“Couldn’t wait five minutes, huh?”

Charles shakes his head frantically, tears pouring out of his eyes.

“Max, _s'il vous plaît, je suis désolé, désolé, je ne-_”

His apology is ended abruptly when Max slaps him, _hard. _It shocks him into compliance and he stops writhing, stops even blinking as he looks up at Max, waiting for him to speak.

“Bitch.” He grabs Charles’ cheeks between the fingers of one hand, holding his head still. “You want me to fuck you?”

Charles gasps and nods as best he can with Max holding him, and Max scoffs.

“Of course you do, fucking whore. Come on.”

He hooks his arms under Charles’ shoulders and lifts him up, leading him to the bed and pushing him face down on the mattress. Charles crawls up to try and position himself but Max grabs his hips, pushes and pulls at him until he’s kneeling with his face in the pillow and his ass sticking up.

Max tugs his panties down and Charles actually moans at the feeling of his cock being freed from the material. Max fumbles around for a second and Charles feels two wet fingers rubbing at his entrance. The prep is rushed and not enough but Charles doesn’t care and he pushes his hips back, desperate for Max to hurry up and fuck him already.

“Christ, you’re such a slut, aren’t you?”

Charles bites the pillow and nods, smearing red all over the white sheet. Max reaches round to grab his neck, pulling him up and leaning forwards so his mouth is right beside his ear.

“Aren’t you?”

He hisses it this time, saliva spatting against Charles’ skin. Charles coughs and retches at the sudden restricted airflow but still nods and manages to wheeze out;

“Yes, fuck, please just fuck me, _s'il vous plait, _do anything!”

Max shoves his face back into the pillow and pushes into him in one swift motion, making Charles scream into the soft fabric. Max doesn’t bother easing him into it, just grips onto his hips and pounds into him, groaning and grunting all sorts of obscene insults and swears directed at Charles and he lets them all hit his back, sink through his skin like sweet knives.

He’s so lost in his own humiliation that he doesn’t even notice he can still see his reflection until he’s literally staring himself down in the mirror. He can see Max shaking above him, sweaty and red, using his own pliant body, taking everything like it’s all he was made to do. Charles closes his eyes and feels himself float away, pleasure and pain overwhelming him to the point where he’s not even sure he’s in the same dimension as Max.

Max’s thrusts grow ever more erratic and pretty soon he’s coming, making Charles wail at the feeling of being filled. Max pulls out and spins Charles onto his back, giving him no time to react before gripping at his neck and squeezing. He pushes Charles’ legs apart and leans over him, their faces level.

“You wanna come, hmm?”

Charles nods and keeps his eyes open, staring straight up at Max as he reaches down and traces simple patterns on his thighs, his hips, trailing up to his cock but not touching it, just teasing, holding down Charles’ hips so he can’t buck up into Max’s waiting hand.

Max takes pity on him and finally grasps his cock, and it only takes a few harsh strokes before he’s coming all over his stomach, splashes of it getting on the skirt but Charles is too far gone to care. Max stills for a moment, and Charles hates the look on his face, the same faraway look he gets every time they do this. He rolls over onto his side, facing away from Charles, and turns out the light, not even bothering to clean up.

Charles breathes shakily through his nose, staring at the ceiling. He’s sore and achy all over, and he tentatively touches his cheek, still red from the slap earlier. He can’t help the sudden mortification he feels and he poorly stifles a sob, then another, then another until his body is shaking and he’s letting out breathy cries, trying desperately to stay quiet and alone in his comedown.

“Can you stop fucking crying?” Max turns around to face Charles, and while his voice betrays anger his face shows nothing. “If you’re going to be a little bitch, go into the bathroom or something. I don’t wanna hear it.”

He turns over again and Charles scrambles out of the bed and locks the bathroom door behind him, sliding down and lying on the cold tiles. He cries for what seems like an age, and when he finally calms down, he doesn’t feel sad or embarrassed or humiliated anymore; he doesn’t feel anything, and he thinks that’s probably for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> well that was something i sat down and wrote


End file.
